Peter White

Peter White will ne’er go right,
And would you know the reason why?
He follows his nose where’er he goes,
And that stands all awry.

Sleep Baby Sleep

SLEEP, baby, sleep,
Our cottage vale is deep;
The little lamb is on the green,
With woolly fleece so soft and clean—
Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep,
Down where the woodbines creep;
Be always like the lamb so mild,
A kind, and sweet, and gentle child—
Sleep, baby, sleep!